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by Jack_is_DA_Trash



Series: Family Moments [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Healing, Injury, Kinda, M/M, Mission Gone Wrong, khajiit dovahkiin - Freeform, khajiit dragonborn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 21:05:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7817200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jack_is_DA_Trash/pseuds/Jack_is_DA_Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abatar goes on a regular mission to go hunt a dragon that was spotted south of Riften. Farkas isn't worried too much when he says goodbye. But when the Dragonborn comes back, his husband really is worried now.</p>
            </blockquote>





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Abatar leaned against the railing of his porch. The fishery of Riften was bustling with workers earning their hard earned gold for the week. A half full tankard of spiced mead rested on the railing, slowly being sipped as he stared off across the water. A few minutes ago, it had been raining and quite foggy. But thanks to the power of the Thu'um, Abatar cleared the skies in seconds. The shout however did spook a few people but a quick apology and the sun's rays now shining down helped brighten the townsfolk. 

He could hear children playing in the small market place from where he stood, as well as the vendors bribing people to purchase their wares. His Argonian friend sells his jewelry there and Abatar sometimes sells him rings or circlets he finds in his travels. 

His pierced ears twitched as he heard the door to the house open behind him and heavy footsteps walked across the wood flooring. 

"Good morning, love."

Abatar purred softly as Farkas scratched him behind the ears and on the back of his neck. He thanked the other werewolf as he was handed a fresh apple to eat. Farkas himself didn't appear to have one as he must have already eaten inside. The juices from the fruit were sweet and cool on his tongue as he bit into the hard flesh of the apple. 

He wrapped his tail around his husband's calf whilst purring softly and leaning against his side. 

"Mmm. Did I wake you?" He said softly. 

"No. I woke up on my own. You always seem to forget how hard of a sleeper I am, dear."

Abatar chuckled. "It seems so."

Farkas continued his ministrations until the sun began to actually warm things up a bit. He wrapped his arm around his Khajiit's waist and asked, "Any missions you have to go on today?"

Abatar sighed. "Yes. I still have to slay that dragon that was spotted south of here."

Farkas tightened his grip on his lover slightly. "Would you like me to go with you, dear?"

"No. I'll be alright. From the reports, it looks like just a regular dragon. Nothing special like a frost or blood dragon. Even if it was, it's nothing I can't handle. I mean, how many dragons have you seen me slay?"

Farkas laughed. "More than fifty. You even go dragon hunting when you are bored and want a bit more gold."

"Exactly. This is just another gold run for me."

For thirty minutes they stood in silence, watching the men and women work at the fishery before the two men went back inside. They prepared a pack that Abatar would take with him to Lost Tongue Overlook filled with food, plenty of potions, and a scroll or two if he get's into a bit of trouble. He also packed a bedroll, an axe and a pic axe if the journey took longer than expected. 

On his way out the door, Abatar gave Farkas a tight hug and a quick nuzzle on the cheek. The nord gave one last hug to his husband before the Khajiit left. 

•••

Killing dragons has become a sort of game to the Khajiit. When he first set out on his destiny of being Dovahkiin, encountering a dragon had been terrifying. It became more so when new types of dragons started showing up. Like blood dragons and frost dragons. Now however, he hunted them for sport. 

Killing the dragon had been simple. It was just a normal brown dragon that spat fire. With injuries that were easily fixed with a minor health potion, Abatar headed back north, bow in hand if he came across any elk or deer that he would kill for meat, leather, and antlers. 

However, he wasn't expecting a camp of giants and their herd of mammoths. Dodging tusks and giant clubs became exhausting as he fired arrows and shouted at them to stun them for at least a few seconds. It took an hour to kill all of them. The last giant standing got a good hit to his side with it's large hand as it went down. 

Now out of potions and low on magika, Abatar stumbled his way back to the gates of Riften. The guards saw the Dragonborn approach and opened the gates for him, seeing the trail of blood he left behind. They would normally help, but the look he gave them made them just stand aside. They watched him slowly make his way across the wooden walkways to Honeyside. Thank the Divines the door was unlocked. If he wasn't a part of the Thieves Guild, the doors and windows would have been locked tight. 

Stumbling in, Abatar clutched a small side table to steady himself as he closed the wooden door behind him. His bloodied hand slipped on the surface of the table, which caused him and all his weight to fall to the floor. Abatar coughed, blood dribbling out of his mouth. 

Shit...

A sword being drawn made him look up from the floor. There stood Farkas. Thank the Divines. Abatar tried to push himself up again but the floor was slippery. So he fell again with a grunt. 

"Abatar!"

•••

Farkas had been downstairs trying to build a shelf when he heard the door open and slam shut. He was having difficulty assembling the damned thing. Abatar was usually the one who built things like this. Hell, his husband would sometimes even cut the wood himself and carve disigns into it. 

Farkas Drew his greatsword and slowly snuck his way up the stairs. When he reached the entry way of the house, he stopped dead in his tracks. Rushing over to the Khajiit, Farkas dropped his sword and lifted the slightly taller man to move him to the nearest elevated surface. Sadly, it was the kitchen table and all the nice silver clattered to the ground as Abatar's heavy form pushed everything off. Farkas wasn't the greatest when it came to healing magics, but his lover would always take the nord with him when he would visit the College of Magi and studied all sorts of magic together. 

Farkas gently, but quickly, took off Abatar's armor and undershirt. All of the injuries seemed to just be on his torso and face. The man's torso looked sunken in, his broken ribs crushing his lungs on one side. The soft golden glow of the healing spelling lit up the room, his lover's body looking less and less damaged with each passing minute. Grabbing for a healing potion in the Dragonborn's pack, Farkas slowly trickled the liquid down Abatar's throat. Looking healthy again, Farkas was pleased with his work before stripping the rest of the taller man's armor off his body, leaving just his underclothes on. The conscious werewolf did the best he could with washing the blood from Abatar's fur and dried him off before carrying him to their shared bed. 

Abandoning the sad excuse of a shelf that was left on the floor, Farkas stripped himself of his day clothes and put on his sleeping trousers before slipping in next to his mate. Farkas pulled Abatar close, resting his cheek on top of his furry head. Knowing Abatar, the Khajiit will still wake up before Farkas. But he would always wake him up with soft nuzzles and loud purring. He always did. And Farkas was not worried one bit now that Abatar was healed, warm, and with him as thy slept.


End file.
